


His Prince's Keeper

by SharkGirl



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Cute, Elven!Michele, Fluff, M/M, Prince!Emil, Short & Sweet, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 06:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14490414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: “Your Highness,” Michele said for the third time, leaning over the lump and frowning. “It is well past breakfast. Do you plan on sleeping the day away?”A pitiful whimper was all he received in response.Michele rolled his eyes. Humans. If they drank more than five goblets of wine, they were useless the next day.





	His Prince's Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!! This is my second piece from the EmiMike Zine~ (I wrote something for both prompts, hehe)
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely Laura (so long ago now, but I still love you!!)  
> Please enjoy~

Michele made his way down the long corridor, the heels of his boots clicking on the polished marble. He passed a few maids, who immediately stopped gossiping and went back to cleaning. Good. There was no time for foolishness. Not when the leader of the elven kingdom to their east was visiting in less than a day’s time.

His steps slowed as he approached a large door at the end of the hall. He lifted a hand and rapped his knuckles against the dark wood three times in rapid succession. “Your Highness,” he called. “It’s past midmorning.”

Of course, there was no reply. Why would there be? When there were parties to be thrown and dances to be had and wine to be consumed the evening before.

As the recently appointed royal advisor to the crown prince, Michele did not partake in frivolities such as those. He had gone to bed early and woken up as such. It was his job to keep the young man in line so he could take his father’s place as king.

“Your Highness,” Michele called again, louder this time, but still received no answer. He sighed and opened the door, stepping into the heavily furnished bedchamber. The drapes were drawn shut, giving the illusion that it was still night.

Michele walked over to one of the large windows, his footfalls dampened by the plush carpeting, and tore aside the curtains, flooding the room with blinding white light and causing the figure on the bed to groan and burrow deeper beneath the duvet.

“Your Highness,” Michele said for the third time, leaning over the lump and frowning. “It is well past breakfast. Do you plan on sleeping the day away?”

A pitiful whimper was all he received in response.

Michele rolled his eyes. Humans. If they drank more than five goblets of wine, they were useless the next day. He, having elven blood, could handle his liquor very well, if need be. In fact, when he served as an apprentice under the king’s advisor, he was often urged to attend social gatherings where alcohol consumption was common.

Still, he had not accepted any of the prince’s invitations to join him at events. He was much too busy. Of course, he could not stop his highness from going. It was important that the future leader of the country socialize with the other nobles and the wealthier landowners.

Michele didn’t belong there, anyway. It was amazing that he and his sister had been invited to live in the castle at all. Even more amazing that they’d been given such important positions, despite their mixed blood. He, the advisor to the future king, and Sara, the lady-in-waiting for the princess.

And now their kind and compassionate king was willing to meet with the King of the Elves and end their century-long cold war. Creating a partnership with the Eastern Elven Nation would be great for trade and for peace throughout all of the surrounding kingdoms.

But there was only one problem.

Their usually wise king had put his _son_ in charge of said negotiations.

It wasn’t that their prince was heartless. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was kind, caring, and cheerful to a fault. But he was young. Four years Michele’s junior and only just come of age. He wasn’t ready for the responsibility. He belonged at those parties, learning the names of the well-to-do and practicing proper etiquette.

For Prince Emil to be placed in charge of such an undertaking was simply irresponsible, in Michele’s opinion. Of course, he would never voice his reservations. That would be speaking against his king and viewed as treason.

So, instead, he had to make the best of the situation in which he’d been placed.

“Wake...up!” Michele shouted, ripping the blankets from the prince’s form. “Negotiations start at sunrise tomorrow!”

“Mickey…” Emil whined, burying his face in his pillow. “Just another few-”

“Absolutely not!” he snapped. “Your father expects the treaty to be drawn up and ready for review tonight. And you have not even started.” Emil mumbled something into the pillow and Michele pinched the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, Highness.” He padded over to the prince’s desk, which was covered in stacks of unrolled parchment. “How can you get any work done like this?”

“Can we talk about this later?” Emil asked, finally sitting up. His hair was a complete and utter rat’s nest and his beard was sticking out in every direction. Then he gave a soft, sleepy smile and reached a hand out toward him. “Come to bed, Mickey.”

Michele’s face grew hot, spreading to the tips of his pointed ears. He turned around, eyes wide. But then he paused, remembering his place. “Clearly, you are not yet awake, Highness.”

“I am.” The prince beamed, his deep blue eyes shining. “And I think you could use a cuddle.” He lifted his other arm and held both of them out for Michele. “Come, Mickey.”

“Perhaps the effects of last night’s libations have not yet worn off,” Michele deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re speaking nonsense.”

“Don’t be like that, Mickey.” But Emil let his arms drop, his hands falling into his lap. “We used to sleep together all the time as kids.”

Michele groaned at the memory. It was true. When he and Sara no longer shared a chamber, he was assigned to the room beside the prince’s and, on more than one occasion, had _accidentally_ sneaked into the younger boy’s bed, missing the comfort of another’s warmth.

He shook his head, banishing the recollection. “That was a long time ago,” he scoffed. “Now, get out of bed so we can get you dressed and working on that treaty.”

“But it’s finished,” Emil replied, stretching his arms over his head and giving a huge yawn. “It’s on the desk,” he said and snuggled back under the blankets. “Stayed up…late…” he added as he began to drift off again.

“Please do not insult my intelligence, Prince Emil.” Michele sighed. “I know very well what you were doing late last night and it most certainly was _not_ working on your assignment.” But in lieu of an answer, all Michele received in response was soft snoring.

He scoffed and walked back over to the desk, just to check. And once he was proven right, Michele planned on waking the prince up properly. Say, by upturning the basin beside his bed – which had once contained warm water – right over the prince’s slumbering form.

But all plans on dumping icy water on his highness fled from his mind as Michele scanned the open scrolls. Several were on the laws and traditions of elven culture and others were maps and trading agreements that were centuries old.

And there, right beneath instructions on customary elven greetings, was the treaty. And judging by the crumpled pieces of parchment that littered the floor, hidden just under the desk, it wasn’t the first draft the prince had written.

Michele found the corners of his lips curling up on their own. His prince had certainly worked hard and managed to complete his task even after entertaining his guests. He had more than earned a few more minutes of sleep. And so, Michele made his way back over to the bed and tucked him in.

But just as he was about to turn and leave, a hand shot out from beneath the duvet, wrapping around Michele’s wrist. “Your Highness?” Michele raised his brows and stifled a chuckle when the rumpled prince peeked out from beneath the comforter.

“I’m cold,” he said, though the warmth of his palm against Michele’s skin proved otherwise.

“Prince Emil…”

“Just for a little bit.” He pulled the blanket back, inviting Michele in, all the while never releasing him from his grasp. “As a reward for finishing my work?” he added with a sweet little smile that, from the moment Michele had met him, he could never resist.

“Very well,” he sighed and tried to ignore the way his pulse quickened when his prince pulled him closer, wrapping long arms and legs around him and trapping him beneath the covers.

“Ah,” Emil sighed, his warm breath stirring the hairs on the nape of Michele’s neck. “Much better.”

Michele should have objected, disagreed or scolded the younger man for acting in a manner unsuitable for the next in line for the throne. But instead, he closed his eyes, forgetting his place for just a moment. And when Emil mumbled something in his sleep, his lips accidentally brushing against the tip of Michele’s pointed ear, he allowed himself the luxury of a few more minutes in his prince’s embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, let me know what you think and hit me up on tumblr [@jubesy](http://jubesy.tumblr.com)!


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